Transition
by ThreeJane
Summary: Carla has one of the stranger wake-ups in the Real World. How will she get along with her problems? Don't get pissed by the middle chapters, read on! Final chapter up!
1. A Strange Wakeup

Untitled Standard disclaimer: The concept isn't mine, I don't make money of this. Carl and the others are mine though, except for Mike. 

Archive: yes, but let me know, pls.  Transition A Strange Wake-Up When I came to for the first time after my unplugging I had no idea where I was. I heard or felt a soft humming that seemed to penetrate the whole room and everything that was in it, including me. 

Then I dared to open my eyes: it wasn't too bright there and my vision was strangely blurred. I blinked a lot and wanted to wipe the sleep out of my eyes but something tugged at my arm. I didn't bother to find out what it was. Instead I used the other one that was free. 

Wiping helped a bit. I looked at my hand: it was strange, as if it wasn't mine at all. My carefully kept fingernails were gone and the whole hand seemed to be bigger, somehow. The skin was extremely soft and smooth. Of course I cared a lot about their looks - my look at all. 

What had happened? 

I laid there and tried to remember how I had gotten here. The people I had contacted and the decision to swallow the drugs they had offered me. I had assumed it had been some anesthesia so they could bring me to their HQ without the risk of me being a spy who would betray them. 

Then the only thing I remembered was a Giger-like dreamscape with robots and engines and cables on me (in me?). And blackness. Warm darkness all around me, and the suddenly cold and the fear of drowning. 

OK, so I was in their HQ somewhere. I was covered with a blanket and I just knew I was naked. You surely know that feeling: it is just different. Probably they had scanned my clothes for bugs. I sat up and looked around, hoping to spot my dress somewhere around. Nothing. 

Instead I took in the appearance of this room. What a place was this? The whole room consisted of metal: walls, floor and ceiling. A locker stood besides a metal-washbasin. I tried to stand but again something tugged at my left arm. I looked and instantly felt sick. An IV tube ended in a thick, obviously implanted permanent access in the middle of my left forearm. 

Was I ill or was that the antidote to the pill I had taken? 

"Hello?" I called with a voice that did not seem to be mine. Hoarse and - I didn't know what else was wrong with it. Anyway, nobody came. 

"Anybody here?" I called again. My throat ached and I coughed. 

After another ten seconds or so the door opened and a boy came in. He was quite of my age. 

"Hi! You awake? Come-on, I'll show you around. What?" I stared at him. He was wearing RAGS! He looked like the worst of the homeless in the big cities wouldn't look like. The ragged sweater was stitched up countless times by some completely incapable hands. His hair looked like it had been cut with a dull knife. He looked simply terrible and neglected. I wasn't sure if he wouldn't have fleas. I shivered. 

I wrapped the blanket closer around my bare body, scarcely noticing something felt - yeah - wrong with me. 

"Isn't there a woman around?" I asked shyly. I would have felt much more comfortable with another woman around than with this filthy boy. He gave me a strange look. 

"Wait." He disappeared. 

I shivered and rubbed my arms. By doing so I came to realize what was wrong. My breasts were gone! With a cold lump in my heart I touched my chest: flat. That was impossible. I was 17 and had a nicely developed body for a girl in that age. But even looking didn't help a thing. They were gone. Even the nipples were much smaller. Altogether my chest looked like a boy's. 

Do you know that feeling when you all of a sudden realize you forgot something really, really important? When all the blood seems to rush off, down into your legs? Feeling sick and your heart is beating like crazy? That was about what I felt, only ten times stronger. 


	2. A Nightmare

Untitled A nightmare? The door opened again and a man appeared. Older. He looked a bit like the guy who had led the group that had contacted me. 

"Hi Carl-a. How are you?" he stretched out his hand. 

"Dagger?" he nodded, "Dagger, what has happened to me?" I gracefully took his hand but it turned out to be a weak, clumsy move. 

"Let me take out the IV first." 

"I'd like to get dressed first, Dagger. I'd feel better then." I told him. 

"I know, but first we must talk. It seems something - ugh - went completely wrong with your unplugging." Dagger sighed, "Carla, when we picked you up, we couldn't believe what we saw. Did you notice your body has changed? I mean not only for your hair?" 

My hair? My hand shot out to my head to find it nearly bald. No fine, long braids - only a thin veil of very short hair. Gracious Lord! What was going on here? And as my voice smoothened more and more it was less and less mine. It was too dark, much too dark. 

"My - " oh, I couldn't finish this sentence! How should I talk to a stranger - a man - about my vanished breasts? I blushed profusely as I realized I had to, mortified I completed the sentence, my voice barely more than a whisper, "my breasts are gone. What have you done to me?" 

Dagger looked extremely uncomfortable, "Carl - Carla, that isn't the only thing that has changed. Actually - you are - ugh." Dagger twitched and ruffled his very bad haircut, "actually, you're not a woman. You're a guy." 

After a second of shocked silence I laughed frantically. Dagger didn't join, the serious look on his face never disappeared. My laughter ceased. 

"You're serious?" I whispered. 

Dagger nodded, "You - errrm - you can see for yourself." He pointed at my lap. Oh no! I closed my eyes. This was impossible. Simply impossible. A gender-change was a process that took months, if not years and...no, it was just not possible. 

"Is there a place where there's a mirror?" 

Dagger showed me the showers and handed me some clothes. Rags would have been the better word. He left me alone. 

There was the mirror. I bit my lip, not daring to step in front of it. Closing my eyes I took a deep breath and made the step. 

The face that stared back wasn't mine. Well, maybe it was - in a more male form - less delicate bones - and the look changed by the utter baldness. I slowly opened the blanket I was still wrapped up in. I stared at a boy's flat chest with some strange circular scars. And then, the final act: dropping the blanket. My hands wouldn't let go of it. I closed my eyes again, took a deep breath and let go. 

Now my eyes refused to open again. I don't know, but I think it took minutes until I finally had the guts to do so. 

"Gracious Lord!" I whispered. The figure in the mirror was male. Not that I had seen too many naked men before - live that is. But OK, there's the internet and I have to admit that I had surfed a few times in search of nude male pictures. Not too often, though. 

Definitely there were no surgery-scars on my chest that would hint a major surgery like the complete removal of secondary female sex characteristics would have required. 

My hand wandered down my stomach until it reached this _thing_, this penis that hung there.   
And it definitely felt like it was mine.   
Farther, to the scrotum: mine.   
And behind that - nothing!   
Nothing, nothing, nothing.   
No vagina.   
Vanished.   
I turned around, bowed and tried to have a closer look.   


Nothing. 

I think I must have given a rather funny show in my desperate attempts to find that missing opening on my body. But back then, it was a tragedy, I was desperate.   
I was stuck in a 100% male body.   
A skinny hairless male body! 

I sank to my knees and cried. 


	3. Learning to Walk

Learning To Walk  
  
They tried to give me a proper introduction to that matrix-thingy. On the first time they plugged me in, I was back in my old body: a 17 year old teenage girl, countless long thin braids down to my shoulders, my body just as it was supposed to be. It felt wonderful and I just refused to get out again. It didn't interest me why or what the Matrix was, all I knew was I wanted to stay in this construct where I was like I used to be; like I _had_ to be.  
  
They unloaded me against my will and that isn't a good thing to do. Made me sick for days. They decided it was simply too soon and that I first should adjust a bit more to my 'new' body before they would start my training. They hoped that after a while I would get accustomed to all the stuff and my RSI would change then.  
  
Next day they brought me to Zion and signed me up at school.  
  
It was hell! Not only that I had to come to terms with this strange body, it's unknown behavior and feel, but many students ridiculed me for I seemed to move and behave wrongly. Arms and legs had a wrong length and so I stumbled very often or missed a hastened snatch. More than once I rushed off, crying. They found it was funny to make me cry.  
  
Teens are immature and they don't always act responsible. Looking back I cannot hate them, because they just weren't clear about what they did to me.  
  
I participated in boy's sports class like I had to. I always waited until everybody had finished in the showers. Only when I could be sure I was alone, I would go and shower. No matter if these boys looked like me, I had never ever exposed myself to men and I just couldn't imagine I ever would.   
  
More or less no progress took place. I had such severe problems even to touch myself – this wrong form I was caught in – I nearly became dirty. I had to force myself to shower every day and to clean _all_ of my body every time.  
  
I learned how to shave. In the Matrix I had only shaved my armpits. But that's completely different. Armpits are smooth, a face has bones and edges that won't snuggle against the blade. It was painful because I often cut my face. Sometimes I took a beard into consideration, because then I could skip shaving, but letting the stubble grow was so itchy, I couldn't stand that either.  
  
Slowly my hair grew back. I had no idea what to do with it. Braids seemed inappropriate now. The curls were not quite as tight, but the cork-screw-curls I grew now were untamable. To shave my head was not an option, so I covered them gang-style with a colored piece of cloth. Everything was neither fish nor flesh, so to say.  
  
This body played tricks on me. As if it had to 'train' I got erections in the most inconvenient situations. I had no idea what to do about it, except hiding someplace until it was over. It seemed that the more I tried to concentrate on not having a hard-on, to order my body not to do so, the more it would revolt and ignore my will. I woke at night, my bed a mess with some sticky, cold dampness.   
  
Countless times I ended up in the wrong restrooms. There were so many embarrassing situations I stopped doing anything because I was afraid I could to something wrong. I was like the rabbit at the sight of the snake: frozen with indecision, uncertainty and fear.   
  
  
The building that hosted the 'normal' classes served also for the military branch of the school. These classes were for those students who had qualified for a career other than the usual fighter. Pilots and operators, all the soon-to-be elite-officers of the brass were gathered there, receiving intense training in all arts of warfare and high-class general education.  
  
Since everything at Zion was centered around the war against the machines, those who were willing to fight would receive best education. Of course about 90% of those students were Field-grown. You pass classes so much faster if you can upload the stuff, a Free-born has nearly no chance to compete. The social gap between the two 'classes' is deep.  
  
They were kept under a very tight, disciplined reign, very much different from us at the civil-classes. More than once we could see them performing punishment-drills on the sports-court. As if they had to compensate for the hard drill, they were known city-wide as the wildest among the young citizens. They used to party hard whenever they could make up a reason and it was said they all were decided to have it all before they would go to war.  
  
Once out there fun would be over for them. Forever. Many fighters died during service and from what I had heard the sparse life at Zion was like Paradise compared to the existence on those ships.  
  
  
But the boys there were considered the tough ones, so I sat on the sports-court during most of my free time. Some students from the military classes used to play basketball there in the early evening-hours. I thought that I could maybe learn something about behavior and attitude by watching them. Two guys were around nearly every afternoon, and they always came and left together. They were the only ones without plugs. I had heard of free-born in the service but never seen any so far.   
  
One was very tall and sinewy, very long shiny straight black hair that used to fly behind him when he ran. He jumped so easily up into the air like he could fly. The other was shorter, 6' maybe, brown skin – a bit lighter than mine – and a good build. Since they were always together I called them the twins.  
  
One afternoon a teammate had to leave soon and the team with the twins was understaffed. After a short discussion the Amerindian shrugged and the brown guy came to the fence. His body was shining with sweat, his top was soaked with it. His hands clung to the fence at a position above his head.  
  
"Hey, you! What's your name?" he asked me.  
  
"Carl-." I told him. It was still hard on me not to answer Carla.  
  
"We noticed you're around often, Carl. Like to join us?" he smiled.  
  
I could feel I blushed, "Oh, I don't play. I mean, I never did. Thank you."  
  
The guy gave me a wink and returned to his friends. They fought hard but the twins lost and the game was soon over. They disappeared into the showers. I stayed on my place, not yet feeling like returning to my dorm. I sat there, my legs crossed (something I tried hard not to do because it made me look like a frump). At the sound of some steps I turned around. It was the brown guy again.  
  
"You're new, huh?" he said, "I mean you look pretty fresh."  
"Yeah."  
"You like basketball?" he asked me.  
"Oh – I don't know." I shrugged.  
"You – but why do you keep watching then?" the guy laughed  
  
"Hey, Mike! Come-on, man." The long haired guy called from behind. Mike complied instantly.  
  
"I gotta go. See ya later, Carl." He waved a quick good-bye and jogged over to where his friend waited.  
  



	4. The Truth Dawns

The Truth Dawns  
  
Although I knew it was the wrong thing to do, I still hung around with the girls in my class. The subjects they talked about were more what was of my own interest.   
  
The night before Nancy had had a date with _the_ heartthrob, Ivan Stovic. During the first break we wanted to have a detailed report.  
  
"So Nancy, how was your date with Ivan?" Andrea asked.  
  
"Oh!" Nancy giggled, "He was nice. But he didn't even try to kiss me!"  
  
"You scared him for sure, Nancy!" Jeannette sighed.  
  
"Me?" Nancy's eyes grew wide in mock innocence.  
  
"Yeah, you! Ah, he is such a cute guy!" Jeannette said  
  
"Oh yeah! He's got such wonderful eyes." I sighed.  
  
Silence.  
  
Heavens! What had I just said? That wasn't me – no way! But all eyes were on me. I blushed profusely, slapped a hand over my mouth while my eyes tried to jump out of my skull.  
  
I don't remember anything of what they taught us that day in school. I was completely absorbed in analyzing the things I had said. Why I had said them.  
  
Indeed, Ivan had wonderful eyes, I thought. But I should not think of him like that, right? Jeannette – what did I think of her? I liked her.   
Could I imagine to date her? To kiss her?   
If I closed my eyes I could indeed imagine to go out with her. Even to kiss her.  
But did I find that exciting? No. Ivan, to the contrary – to think of him made my heart beat faster.  
  
What was going on with me? I was male I should fancy women! That was the way it had to be. I locked up in my room and got a severe nervous breakdown.  
  
I was brought to ZMD. That is the Zion Medical Division.   
Psychologists started to talk to me.  
After a few sessions they loaded me up again. I was still a woman in there. That made it only worse. I collapsed in the construct and again they had to unload me against my will.  
  
I hated this body. I wanted to get rid of this package that hung between my legs. With the next meal they served me I got berserk, attacked my own body with the spork: ramming the thing into my lower belly on and on. There must have been a way to get rid of this stupid piece of flesh!  
  
Finally they overwhelmed me and after I was sedated and treated for my wounds they had to strap me to a bed to keep me from harming myself. I will always carry the scars from this time when my fear and frustration broke free in a rage against myself.   
My psychologist brought a preacher along. It was a friendly, old man and first we talked about everything. He was batting around the bush a lot before he started to talk about my problems.   
  
See, I was raised in a pretty conservative catholic family and sodomy was – man! Even the word nearly choked me. But to think I was – I did – to imagine that I, in this male body, fancied other men.   
  
That was sin!  
  
I was deeply ashamed for my thoughts and the uncontrolled acts my body committed.  
We talked a lot and he must have been a pretty good trained talker, because slowly but surely – over days and days he opened up my mind for the idea that love knew no gender. He never said so, but he made me understand it.  
  
  
I got released after four weeks. They suggested I should not try to plug in ever again – at least not without medical supervision. They told me I had to show up twice in a month for a session. They brainwashed me, in a way.   
  
More important: Somehow they had given me the key to come at ease with myself: To accept my new existence.   
  
That this was be the very first step to find peace and happiness later-on wasn't clear to me then. But I felt a tad better in my misery every day.  
  
What I had learned about my body while I grew up in the matrix, had been a natural process – I just learned by doing, experiencing it without ever consciously noticing so.  
Now I had to indeed learn and read from a book. What a weird situation!  
  
So this body was different but not less good. They gave me a book that would help me. I preferred the book, because I was still embarrassed to expose myself in front of other men – and what they wanted to explain to me could hardly be done by women. And being honest, I wasn't sure if I wanted to expose myself to women any longer.  
  
I became a loner although I wished so badly to have somebody who would help me, see me through this. My mates wouldn't understand and I knew nobody else.  
  
  
  
  
One evening, I went to the abandoned court and started to play. I liked it. I liked to move around, enjoyed the feel of my muscles working with every step I took, every jump I made. I didn't dunk a single ball, of course. I hardly ever hit the board at all. But nevertheless it was fun. For the first time I experienced my body as something positive.  
  
"Yo, Carl!" I spun around. It was Mike, lazily leaning against the fence.  
  
"Hi!" I greeted him. Mike pushed himself off the fence and casually strolled by.  
  
"Where ya been? We missed our audience." He grinned.  
  
"I was sick."  
  
"Oh. You wanna play?" Mike pointed at the ball I was holding.  
  
We did some dribbling and of course he outran me every time. Soon I was tired – my body wasn't used to so much exercise. Mike told me I could learn how to play, I only had to train harder. I noticed we were on the way to the showers so I stopped.  
  
"What?" he gave me a quizzical look.  
  
"Go ahead. I can take a shower at my dorm." I blushed.  
  
"Anything wrong? Did I do anything wrong?" Mike frowned.  
  
I shook my head and then gave him a rough outline of my story.   
  
"Wow. That's hard. That's about the meanest thing I've ever heard. Well, good for you – you know about everything that is to know about girls, ey?" Mike laughed, "Quite an expert!"  
  
Comforting thought, really! We parted for the evening. I had not been able to admit I probably would not make use of my ultimate knowledge. For the moment I was busy enough to come to terms with my body. My mind would have to wait. And who could tell? Maybe, if time went by, my head would change into the right direction...  
  
  
I spent hours in front of the mirror, trying to imitate the guys at school – the way they moved, the way they carried themselves. I worked hard not to sit with crossed legs or folded hands. The result was what it was: a forced imitation, partly even more ridiculous than what I considered being natural – and others as female.  
  
Cautiously I made friends with few of my fellow-students again. This time I told them my story and they turned out to be helpful. They said things like "Carl, you're doing _it_ again." whenever I acted too female. And slowly, while my body grew stronger, my movements became more natural. Slowly I accepted the fact I would never move around like one of these brawny guys. And surely I would never behave like them! That was far from anything I might have wished for I found them too rude and crude. I was a guy with a tendency to the female side of life.   
  
I would never be a good basketball player either.  
  



	5. Expeditions

Expeditions  
  
I had made up my mind to work at ZMD so I took some special classes about healthcare and paramedics.  
  
During the sessions at ZMD the psychos were very pleased with my progress. Only thing that just would not change was that I was a woman whenever I was uploaded. No change. And with the time it became more and more awkward. They had programmers analyze my RSI but they all shook their heads. They suggested to stay away from constructs and especially from the Matrix itself.   
  
That was fine for me. I had never thought about joining this fight anyway. That was too harsh.  
  
The other thing that would not change was much harder on me: my lack of interest in women. After a phase during which I tried to force it – to no avail, of course – I started to investigate about gay life at Zion.  
  
My impression about that was extremely stereotypical. Once I had watched the Rocky Horror Picture Show (of course my parents had not idea and I had a very bad consciousness afterwards), and a gay guy for me was somebody like Frank N. Furter. A sinful creature running around in drag.  
  
I was so naïve!  
  
Nobody could tell me anything specific. In the Matrix that would have been so because homies would hide in most places. Here, they strolled down the streets, holding hands, kissing like any other couple you would see on the street. Nevertheless information was hard to gather. Probably because there seemed not to be anything special about it. People who don't have to hide don't need special places to meet.   
  
The only place everybody knew was a bar called RatKing. People were talking about it with low voices. Friday night I took a heart and went there. I had nothing special in mind, I didn't even know what exactly I expected to find out that night.   
  
It was a hole in the wall. Dark, filled to the brim with half-naked men of all ages and the looks they gave me were absolutely unambiguous. I had to go to the bathroom and there I saw some guys doing it.   
  
That scene is ingrained in my mind:   
Their sweating bodies, their grunts, the antiseptic smell of the room. They glanced at me and then continued their labor.  
I stood there, frozen.  
Then somebody 'invited' me and I ran. Out of the bar and all the way back to the dorm.  
  
Catching breath on my bed I was sure this had 'cured' me. All my prejudices were confirmed. That place had looked like an outlet of Sodom. No matter what I felt for men – or did not for women – if this was what gay life was like: no, thank you very much.   
  
Funny I had never thought of sex being a part of whatever 'gay life' might have meant.  
  
***  
  
School ended after 9 months. At least for those who were freed: thanks to the cyber-ware we could upload most of the stuff and then rehearse a bit. I would now go and start working at ZMD and have my own apartment.  
  
But before had a party on the day we got our diploma.  
  
There were several classes partying down at Crystal Lake. That is a big sweet-water lake in an even larger natural cavern on the outskirts of Zion. The place to have a party going on.  
  
In the other group there were a lot of couples and they all were not shy to expose their affection to everybody who wanted to see it. I glanced over from time to time and thought I did recognize some of the military-school-students.  
  
"You're a fast runner, Carl! And reckless. Ever thought about football?" Mike strolled by casually. He was always so laid-back. Right now he was arm in arm with another young man who seemed to be rather drunk.  
  
"What are you talking about?" I was completely clueless. I would have noticed if I had run him over, wouldn't I?  
  
"You came out of the RatKing like devil himself was after you and nearly slammed that door into my face." Mike said. His company giggled. Mike whispered something into the drunk blonde 's ear and his company left with a pout.  
  
"Oh, sorry. Did I hurt you?" man, I wasn't too bright.  
  
"Naw. Never saw you there before?" Mike's eyes sparkled as he cocked his eyebrows. Did that mean _he_ went there more often? Ooooh, did that mean he was – oh, wow. This great-looking guy? So this was the reason why he was always together with the Amerindian – they were lovers. The mere thought made me blush again.  
  
"Ugh – I – well I wanted to see what it was like." I shifted uncomfortably. I had not expected to meet anybody known at that place. I felt like I wore a sign saying I was gay.  
  
"Say, according to what you told me – you changed your body but you still into guys, huh?" Mike wasn't half as slow as I was.   
  
"You can say so." I blushed. My life consisted of stages of blushing, crying and running back then.  
  
"You didn't tell." The question left unspoken.  
  
"I wouldn't accept it myself. But as time went by..." I told him what I had concealed the first time. About my resentments, the feeling of guilt, my struggle and now my trials to accept who I was here. He listened attentively.  
  
"And so you decided to go to the RatKing!" Mike laughed, "Man, that is like you decide to run and the next day you sign up for a marathon."  
  
"I knew no other place." I excused. I saw Mike nod.  
  
"You know, Carl, I don't understand why you felt guilty and all. But if you want to find some more decent places to hang out, I could take you there. I'd like to."  
  
"That's really nice, Mike, thank you." Man! Was he making a date while he had someone else waiting for him only a few steps behind? And what about his twin-friend, the Amerindian? On the other hand: Mike was nice and I would have been thankful for any help in this situation.  
"But?" he was perceptive.  
"Not tonight. I don't feel like, sorry." I had to think about this first. Mike nodded and left.  
"Later, Carl!" I watched him rejoin the blonde and leaving together, arm in arm.  
  
  
I sat there and didn't know what to think or do. He's only trying to be friendly, I tried to tell myself.   
  
I slept over it for several nights.   
  
My days were busy with learning at ZMD, and working, of course. It was rather hard work – to lift up patients, help them into the bath-tub and so on. By the time my shift was over I was pretty exhausted. No more thoughts of visits at the gym as I used to while I was at school.  
  
In addition I had to try to make the small apartment my _home_. It was a small place: one room and a small bathroom. Bare floor, walls and windows. I found some rags I could use as curtains with a bit of needlework. But progress was made only slowly because a twelve-hour shift normally leaves you groggy.  
  
By the time I thought I should see if Mike was still willing to show me around, I realized I knew nothing about him – except that he used to play frequently at the basketball-court. So on a week I had an early-shift, I went home, had a nap of three hours, took a shower and walked over.  
  
The court laid abandoned. I was deeply disappointed! Somehow I had thought he would just be there, waiting for me. I hung around for half an hour, then decided to go back home.   
  
The next evenings I walked over to the basketball court. On the third I succeeded. Mike was there with his usual company. I watched them finish the game. Then Mike came over, steaming and sweating but happy because his team had won the match.  
  
"How are you?" Mike hung there with one hand on the frame of the gate and performed some lazy, slow pull-ups. He had such a nonchalant way of exposing his strength. I hardly managed two-handed pull-ups. I was still far from complete physical recovery. My work at ZMD had made me understand that, as a field-grown, I would never develop a strong body.  
  
"Fine, thanks. I wondered if you still keep up your offer to show me around?" I cursed myself for being so damn coy.  
  
"Sure! Now?" I nodded. "Cool. I'll be right back." Mike disappeared for a shower. I sat there and waited. Everybody left, only Mike was still missing. I was afraid, he might have tricked me. Probably he and some buddies were standing around the corner, laughing their asses off while I sat here like an idiot. Just when I decided to leave, Mike exited the building.  
  
  
He led me to the Rainbow's End. A bar where everybody went. They had a dance-floor and Mike suggested to join the crowd. I had always loved to dance, in the Matrix that is. I never had the chance to do so here. I didn't think twice and nodded.  
  
It was wonderful! I just wouldn't stop. I let the groove take control, oblivious to the looks Mike gave me from time to time. Then the music slowed down to a blues and we left for a table. We talked for a while but it had gotten late and I had to get up early next morning. Mike insisted to see me home.   
At some point he slipped his hand into mine, smiling at me. It somehow felt nice. His hand was dry and strong and a bit calloused. It gave me the long missed feeling to belong to somebody.  
  
"You're a great dancer." Mike said.  
  
"Thank you." My answer came without thinking. Oh! I was getting compliments from this guy. I was flustered and irritated.   
  
"Have you ever been kissed, Carl?" Mike asked suddenly.  
  
"What?" what was he saying? What did he want?   
  
"I just wondered if you would like to kiss me?" Mike stopped, the ever-present smile on his face was somewhat encouraging.   
  
"No!" I jumped backwards, yanking my hand out of his. What kind of suggestion was that?  
  
"Hey, Carl, it's not a big deal" Mike said, obviously surprised by my reaction, "just a kiss."  
  
"No way!" I turned and ran. Home. Away from this man.  
  
"Carl! Carl, wait!" I heard Mike calling but I wouldn't stop or turn around. All I wanted was to lock myself up in the safe loneliness of my small home.  
  
I had thought all Michael had in his mind was being friendly. I had trusted him and he had taken advantage of that, had tried to seduce me. I rolled up on my bed with a heart that beat so fast I was afraid it would burst.  
  
It wasn't from running. Neither was the heat-rush I felt from running.   
*…to kiss me? Kiss me ... kiss me...* Mike's voice echoed in my ears. Whenever I closed my eyes I saw his face – these fantastic almond-shaped eyes, this great smile. I could still feel his hand in mine.   
  
My fingers touched my lips – what would it be like to kiss somebody - other than my parents' cheeks? Somebody who made my heart beat like Mike did?  
  
I groaned loud.   
  
That night sleep was an impossible thing to do.  



	6. Late Visitors

OOC: Thank you, Scottishlass for the inspiration :-) and Kristma too for the critique.  
My readers' wish is my command, so all I did was to add the last paragraph in this chapter - to give the story a complete new twist.  
You will forgive me the slash, I know :-)  
  
  
  
Late Visitors  
  
  
During the next days I tried to forget about the evening. It was too scaring, too irritating, too much, just too much. I didn't want to think about it.  
  
  
There was enough to do to keep my mind busy with other things: At ZMD I went through different departments so I would learn all kinds of work and could decide what exactly was the job I could do best.   
  
On my first day at the surgery I faded twice. Both time I was asked to assist and everything went fine until the medic performed the first cut. That was it. I couldn't stand to see blood. That simple. Large open wounds were an absolute turn-off for me. I was good at after-surgery care-giving though.  
  
In addition, surgeons are incredibly rude sometimes. I guess that comes with the routine. Most of them spent a good while in the ER where they had to decide things within seconds: high stress-level and heavy burden in connection with the strain of 36-hour stand-by-shifts. I was an open secret these medics were on speed rather often. But I was repelled by their bossy attitude and their rude jokes.  
  
It was the only department I couldn't wait to get away from.   
I counted down the days.  
Therefore I knew exactly it was on day -15 when I met Michael again.  
  
Somehow Mike must have managed to find me, because on that day – 6 days after The Kiss - he knocked on my door. I opened, not knowing who it was. There he stood, with his usual tank-top, shorts and no shoes.  
  
"Can we talk?" for the first time there was no smile on that face. I wasn't sure but I couldn't slam the door in his face, could I? So I let him enter. The room contained only the standard-furniture: bed, table and two chairs. Mike sat down on a chair.  
  
"Are you thirsty?" I was ready to get some water, but Mike shook his head.  
  
Nervously I took a seat in the other chair, nervously looking at a point beyond Mike's shoulder.  
  
"I wondered what I have done wrong that night. I want to apologize if I offended you, really." Mike looked very serious. I was surprised. Most guys at his age had only one thing in mind: having fun. They wouldn't think about other people's feelings.  
  
"It wasn't your fault." I managed to say, "It's all mine."  
  
"Bullshit. You did nothing. I did." Mike snorted.  
  
"It's not that easy!" and then I told him about how my body betrayed me on and on. How helpless I was and finally I sat there and cried. I was so lost and nobody was there to help me. Except Mike. Suddenly I felt that he hugged me.  
  
"Carl, everything you felt was normal. When you are gay it's just like that – you get hot if you kiss another guy. Being gay is not only a state of mind. You are gay from tip to toe, body and soul. There's nothing to be scared of." His embrace comforted me a bit, his words didn't.  
  
"It's wrong." I sniffled.  
  
"Don't be silly, Carl. This is new for you, and you're scared. I think that makes sense. But it's neither wrong nor bad. How could affection or love be bad, hmmm?" I felt his lips on my cheek. Being honest, I liked the feeling. "How about we give it a second try?"  
  
I sniffled and nodded.   
  
Mike closed the gap between us by pulling me into an embrace. His hands were on my back, one wandered upwards to cup the back of my skull, the other slid down to rest on the small of my back. And then his lips met mine! Light and quick as a butterfly's touch, causing a strange feeling in me.   
  
That was it?  
  
Not exactly. After another second he kissed me again. Longer this time. His lips were warm and soft. Mike's arms pressed me closer against his body. Then another sensation: moist and hot. His tongue slid across my lips.   
Then it was over, leaving me in a turmoil of feelings and emotions.  
I took a deep breath and opened my eyes. The blood roared in my ears. I licked my lips – could taste him there. My body screamed and I felt a throbbing erection hot in my pants.  
  
"More?" Mike whispered.  
  
"Yeah." My answer was but a breathy whisper.  
  
A shiver went through my body and I opened my lips. Suddenly Mike's tongue was in my mouth! I couldn't think, the blood roared in my ears and I could feel his hand sliding down my chest. A sharp twinge shot through me, aiming south - it happened again. I tried to fight the panic as hard as I could.  
  
"Carl!" Mike softly called my name, "Carl, easy. Relax and try to enjoy."  
I was shaking. Mike's hand was warm on my belly, he could feel my labored breathing and the trembling of my whole body. His other arm was wrapped around my shoulders. On and on he told me everything was all-right.  
  
Mike managed to calm me down. After a short while his hand left my stomach and he traced the lines of my face, let his hand trail down my throat and my sternum. Immediately my heart was beating faster. Mike never broke eye-contact, reading my reactions from them. He brought his full hand into contact with my chest, brushing the fabric of my top against my nipples.   
I gasped.  
Mike smiled.  
  
Mike went on with his soft caresses. Then he reached the belt of my pants. I held my breath, not sure what to do or feel. All the time Mike had kept me on the edge of shying away. Now Mike pulled up my top and slid his hand beneath.  
  
It was so intense. I closed my eyes to shut out all disturbing impressions. This felt so good! I realized how much I had wanted this – contact, warmth, Michael. My top was gone – no idea how it had happened.  
  
"How do you feel?" Mike's soft whispers were close to my ears and his hot breath excited me even more.  
  
"Wonderful – I think I'm going to die." I was hardly able to utter coherent sentences.  
  
"It's great to feel you, Carl. I was dreaming of you for months now." Mike kissed me again and I dared to respond. Mike moaned softly into my mouth, his hands gripping my body tighter. He shifted and pressed his body against mine in the chair. Something hard pressed against my lower thigh and Mike pressed harder.  
  
It was like my whole existence was filled by Michael: I could taste him, smell him, hear and see him, feel him all over my body. And it was great. My head was swimming and I felt like butter in the sun.  
  
He broke the kiss, gasping for air.  
"Oh, Carl! Carl! I want you..." he buried his face in the nape of my neck.  
  
Mike held me like this for a while. I could feel his heart hammering against his ribs, his hot breath was on my throat while he kept his face pressed against the soft skin of my neck. It was such a crazy feeling – wonderful and scaring at once. I wanted this would never end. I thought I could stay like this forever.  
  
Finally, with a deep, shaky sigh he pulled away from me.  
  
"I have to go." His face was blushed, he looked feverish. I had no idea these were clear signs of passion. In fact, I knew nothing about sex at all! And at this moment I only felt deep disappointment.  
  
"No! Why?" I was completely confused.  
  
"It wouldn't be fair, Carl. You want it now and tomorrow you'll hate me. Take your time!" Mike's hand trailed across my cheek again. I wanted him to stay! I wanted this great feeling to stay! How could he leave? How could he leave me like this? With a burning body that screamed for something only he seemed to be able to give?  
  
"You're mean and unfair. If you go now, you don't have to come back, you know?" my frustration broke free in fiery anger.  
  
"That's OK, because if I stayed, tomorrow you would tell me that anyway. You better sleep on it, Carl." Mike stood up and bowed to kiss my cheek but I pulled away. I hated him! I wanted him to go. And he did so. When the door closed, I felt cold and dead.  
  
About two minutes later I heard a knock on my door. To say that I ran would be a terrible understatement – I flew! I ripped it open,  
  
"So you changed your mind – " and stopped dead because outside wasn't Mike but an official looking couple.  
  
"Mr. Van den Bos, I am special Agent Flynn, this is special Agent Gianni. We are sorry to disturb you, but we must immediately talk to you." The man said, flashing an officially-looking passport.  



	7. The Impossible Match

(autor's note: OK, this took a good time to figure something out, I have to admit, but this might be fun)  
  
  
The Impossible Match  
  
Caught completely off guard, I stepped back and let them enter, still working on my deep disappointment it had not been Mike.  
  
The odd couple sat down in the chairs, leaving only the bed for me.  
  
"Mr. Van den Bos, we're working for Zion Intelligence Service. Accidentally we got notice of your – well, extraordinary – story. First we wouldn't believe it, but we have been watching you now for a while – " The man, Flynn, started.  
  
"You were _watching_ me? Why? What for?" I asked them. They were spying on me? I had no idea why. And they were a bit uncomfortable right now. Later I learned they did not like to reveal the existence of this agency to an outsider.  
  
"Because, Mr. Van den Bos, what you consider being your tragedy is in fact an incredible opportunity for us. Something we didn't even dare to dream of.  
"We are monitoring a group of people who are trading information with some Agents of the AIs as it seems. We had several trials to infiltrate their group to reveal how they work, but for the unique structure of their organization we never succeeded." I watched him while he talked: a Freeborn man like I had seen so many by now: a mix of so many different ethnical groups you could not determine his roots. But his main features were a unhappy mix of Caucasian and Asian features. Only his eyes were remarkable: a green like I had never seen before, so clear and bright.  
  
"Why don't you take them down? You seem to know them." I asked. I couldn't see how I should be of any help to such a nosey agency. Me, someone who was too mellow to kill a roach, play the James-Bond-Game? If they had really watched me, they should know I was far from being useful to them.  
  
"It is not that easy. But first things first:" Gianny went on now. Not only did she have a great appearance with perfectly white skin, red hair and blue eyes, her clothes looked finer than anything I had seen so far at Zion, "We would have watched you longer but tonight's events have forced us to intervene immediately."  
  
"In terms of what?"   
  
"Before we can explain, we need you to assure your cooperation and your discretion." Flynn leant forward.  
  
"How can I assure you anything if I don't know what it's about?" this was hilarious! Like watching the X-Files and suddenly realizing you were part of it.  
  
"It is for the sake of mankind! For the safety of the people living at Zion!" Gianni's voice had an intense tone.  
  
I nodded. What else could I have done?  
  
"As far as we know, the organization - they call themselves 'The Brotherhood' here at Zion – is an extremely conservative organization. They believe that values Zion holds up high are wrong and they want to overthrow the Government. For this goal they are ready to cooperate with the machines.  
They seem to be based on a sect that sometimes split off the roman-catholic church. In fact their ideas were so extreme, the Pope excommunicated them and banned their sect from the catholic community shortly before The War began. They treat their women like lesser beings, they abhor birth-control in any form, they believe laughter is a bad thing and talk soon leads to sinful nonsense. And lot more of such ideas. People like you wouldn't be too happy under their reign.  
We had several highly trained Agents join their brotherhood but they all failed sooner or later." Flynn sat back again.  
  
"Why?" how could they believe I would succeed where these Bond-clones had failed?  
  
"First, it came too hard on some of them to pretend to adhere their ideas. Then some failed when they had to get into the Matrix to complete their task. Finally we tried to extract the information they had from them, but retrieving information, locked with a very strict inhibition given under hypnosis, will only damage the individual's brain and sanity.   
We were clueless and stopped further attempts about a year ago. We were reluctant to sacrifice more people without the slightest hope to succeed." Flynn ended.  
  
"I can still not see where or why you need me."  
  
"They failed because they had no idea about these special conservative ideas. You do. We studied your Matrix-origin. We know now that we cannot get the information out of the informant's brains, so the informant must be able to get into the Matrix." Gianni explained.  
  
"A lot of people can do that – many of them are male." I was still reluctant. My need for adventures was over-saturated.  
  
"Exactly, Carl. And they are still, when they are in the Matrix. But the branch they use to communicate is a nuns' monastery. And there is no way to learn how to move and behave. You know exactly this is nearly impossible and need endless training. Time we don't have, Carl." Gianni's voice was very soft, appealing.  
  
This was the reason! They needed what made me suffer so hard: a natural man at Zion who was a natural woman in the Matrix! The impossible possibility!   
  
"Can you see now why we need you, Carl? You are Zion's last hope." Gianni looked at me with her deep, blue eyes.  
  
"Heroes are not made like me." I whispered as I stared at my toes.  
  
"Exactly what a true hero would say in this situation!" Flynn was so sure! "Carl, help us, please!"  
  
"I'll tell you tomorrow, OK?"   
  
"No. You must decide it now." Flynn was determined.  
  
After a while – I don't remember how long I sat there – I nodded faintly. How could anyone act different? Zion was my home, the people here my friends...  
  
"Good. You must stop seeing this Michael. Right now. No gay activities, Carl!" Flynn said  
  
"But – " Mike was my only friend. I felt safe with him around. He was so strong, he would surely help me to carry that burden, I had hoped.  
  
"No Carl. Keep away from the gay scene. You must be 100% credible for The Brotherhood and if they should ever see you holding hands with another man like tonight, that would probably be your death-sentence." Flynn said.  
  
"That is the reason we had to intervene tonight, Carl. There had been some hints in the past, even in your medical files, but tonight it was clear your sexual preference is far from what The Brotherhood would ever accept. Be single until this is over." Gianni continued.  
  
I was stricken. I had not thought that whatever I had to do would ask so much of self-denial. A cold shiver ran down my spine and I pulled up my shoulders.  
  
"OK." I had no idea how deep this would affect my life in the future.  



	8. Double Life

Double Life  
  
A lot of things changed during the next months. Of most I cannot tell because that is classified information and the instructions they gave me under hypnosis clearly forbid me to reveal that.  
  
First they changed my contract with ZMD. I was only working part-time there, spending the rest of the day (about 10 hours) at the Intelligence HQ. Most of that time during the first weeks was spent with uploads. They pressed so much information into my brain as possible, always at high-speed so I was most time dizzy if not sick with a headache afterwards.  
  
I learned everything about the Brotherhood's religious ideas. I learned how to shoot how to build makeshift weapons – something that reminded me of Mac Gyver, and a lot more things. It seemed they were a bit in a hurry, because later I learned that these brute-force uploads at high-data-rate were risky for the recipient's brain.  
  
As soon as the uploads ceased I was taken into a training that was like a brainwashing. Hours and hours I was conditioned to give the proper answers to delicate themes. Finally they tested me by calling in the middle of the night and asking for my opinion about this and that.  
  
You cannot be persuasive if you don't believe what you do or say – at least a bit. They ruined a lot of the psychologists' work.  
  
As a result I got rid of Mike rather easy:  
  
It was nearly two months after that strange recruitment. I was terribly tired when I came home around midnight, my head ached and all I wanted was a bed to sleep in. But in the stairway there was Michael waiting. He insisted in talking to me.  
  
"No. I don't want to see you ever again!" I told him.  
  
"Carl, I don't get this. I thought we were friends?" I could see he was completely clueless about the situation.  
  
"You are a sinful person! Get lost! Don't try to seduce me to your abhorrent way of life. Get out of my eyes!" my hand pointed down the stairway. I could see the pain in his eyes. My words had hurt him badly. To see him like this hurt me nearly as much. But for my own sake I had to end this as fast as possible, no matter at what cost.  
  
"It ain't me who's sick." These were Michael's last words then he went down the stairs, slowly first then faster until he slammed the outward door shut behind him.  
  
Their brainwashing had worked well but not completely. I laid awake that night and thought about quitting. I had kicked a friend into his face and now felt like shit. In the loneliness of that night it wasn't too much of a comfort that I told myself I did what I did for his sake too. That maybe later he would understand.  
  
Or later would never take place?  



	9. New Carl [tm]

9) New Carl [tm]  
  
  
"Carl! Come-in please." Gianni stood in the open door of her office, asking me to come in. I had been waiting a quarter of an hour here under the sharp eyes of the team's secretary Natasha.  
  
"Make yourself comfortable, Carl." Gianni sat down in her chair while I pulled back the other one so I could stretch my legs after I flung myself into it.   
  
"We think you are ready to go, Carl. From tomorrow on you'll be back to full-time-work at ZMD. You will move to another area, closer to your contacts. Pack your things and move in tomorrow. This is the address." Gianni handed me a small sheet. I took it and looked at it while my thoughts went astray:  
  
9 months had passed since they had first visited me. Like many other couples Flynn and Gianni had created a new life in that time:  
  
New Carl [tm].  
  
Endless drills had shaped my body and changed my movements. Countless hours of indoctrination had changed my ways of thinking and infinite amounts of data had been pressed into my brains during so many uploads.  
  
Difference was: the labor was all on my side, Gianni had not given birth and Flynn had never fathered me. Nevertheless I was their breed, their creation. Thinking and behaving the way they needed me to. I was stronger, harder, prouder. Fitting, don't you think? The logical continuation of an existence that had started in the tubes of a machines' breeding station.  
  
"Anything else?" I asked curtly as I got up again.  
  
"No. We will proceed as planned and stay in contact as planned. Good luck, Carl." Gianni gave me a look I could not read. I never learned to interpret her body-language. Maybe because there was nearly none – she was always so disciplined, cool, a pure professional.  
  
+++  
  
I returned to normal working routine, living in another area of Zion. I started to explore the surroundings of my new home on my days off. I was just another normal boring guy working as an orderly at ZMD, whistling after some well-built nurses every now and then. I wasn't bugged, I wrote no mails or notes to Zion Intelligence. Nobody would have been able to tell I was not what I pretended to be.  
  
Except by night.   
  
That was the only time somebody might have torn my cover apart. It was clear to everybody that within 9 months you couldn't completely re-shape a human mind (well, not in a friendly, damage-free way, that is) irreversibly. Therefore I had to wear earphones by night that ended in a small device I could put under my pillow. That tool replayed instructions in a condensed form all night long. In the morning I would hide it behind a cabinet.  
  
During training I had gotten so used to it, it never bothered me. Besides I realized very well this tool might make the difference between life and death soon.  
  
+++  
  
Eventually I made my way to the bar that was mostly crowded by Brotherhood-members. The first evenings were boring and lonely – like it is for every stranger who treads for the first time on foreign territory. I tried to ignore the curious stares they gave me, sitting there with a drink and playing chess against books or myself.  
  
One evening, I was again in the bar, playing a over a match that had taken place between two grandmasters in the real year of 1997 in Helsinki when a large, strong white hand took the white queen's bishop and moved it.  
  
"Check." He said.  
  
I looked up with surprise and delight.  
  
"I noticed you're around rather often." I looked up from the place a sat and saw a guy standing there, a drink in his hand. He had blue eyes, red hair, plugs and looked like an average member of the Zion community, "you mind if I sit down?"  
  
"Of course not. I'm Carl. Carl Van den Bos." I offered my hand.  
  
"Hagen Czernow. Nice to meet you Carl. I understand you are new in this area?" His handshake was firm. I guessed he was in his late twenties.  
  
"Yeah. I had an apartment assigned now that I started working." I nibbled on some salty snacks they had on the tables.  
  
"It's good to have a place of your own, huh?" Hagen seemed to remember the time of his own settling down at Zion, "What you do for a living?"  
  
"ZMD. Work as an orderly. Maybe I can get some classes and become a medic later. Not sure...How about you?" It was just the usual smalltalk you do to get to know someone. I enjoyed it since I hadn't had too much opportunities to meet new people.  
  
"Pest control. Rats and roaches."   
  
"Oh, that's an unendangered job!" I shot at him. The two big R's were omnipresent – really bad!  
  
Hagen laughed, "Indeed! Haven't seen it from that side."  
  
Hagen was a friendly guy and during the evening he introduced me to some of his friends. It was the first time I had met new people after nine months and I enjoyed it so much to do some small-talk. I returned to my apartment with a smile on my face. The fact that Hagen was one of my targets could not change that.  
  
+++  
  
At work I was transferred to the Dungeons. That is the part of the Medical Department where the hopeless insane are kept. Locked away forever from the community. Most of them, because they don't have anybody to care for them: ex-fighters without family at Zion. Some are really dangerous, like the Hammer-Man. A serial killer who had terrorized Zion for months before the cops had tracked him down. It is located in the oldest level of Zion, forming an appendix to the ZMD central-building. It's an old mine, they say.  
  
Nearly immediately I decided to choose this as my working-field. I could work there and make their lives a nicer one. I could not change their fate, but I would be able to do my share in easing it. Some colleagues treated their clients like a piece of furniture. I soon had several clashes with them.  
  
Sure, basically the job was dull routine: feed them, clean them, clean their rooms. But some liked chess and I have games running most of the time. Others were simply glad to talk to somebody. I found out that ridiculous 5 minutes could make the difference between vegetating and a rather human existence.   
  
+++  
  
I kept going to the bar frequently. I often talked to Hagen who turned out to be a rather humorous guy, sympatico and well-liked in his community. I met more people, was invited to parties now and then – in short I became a member of the 4 th street community.  
  
One night we went to an official hearing at City Hall. These gatherings take place when the administration wants the City to democratically find a decision on subjects not directly linked to the War. This time it was about the question of parenthood, motherhood and rights linked to these.  
  
Normally there were enough orphaned kids at Zion to make every couple happy. And those who were lucky enough to procreate normally kept their children and raised them, or – if they were still out to fight – found foster-parents for the time being.  
  
Until then Zion never had a need to regulate anything but legal guardianhood of unadopted orphans. The case was rather complicated: a gay couple, one of then freeborn, had convinced the free-born's sister to give birth to a child, fathered by the free-born's partner. She gave the baby to the couple. The two guys raised the kid until it was five. By that point it was clear the sister would never be able to have any other baby. Meanwhile married, the woman wanted her only child back what the 'parents' refused to do.  
  
There had been no contract between the parties and seen from the legal side Zion court gave the kid to the mother, well knowing it was impossible to find a solution that would help everybody.  
  
This hearing was set to find a regulation for similar cases in order to prevent such painful fights. I saw the two men – they were broken. They had loved and raised the girl so many years and now justice had ripped out their very heart.  
  
They were the parents. One of them was indeed the biological father. For five years they had laughed and cried with and for the kid, given her everything. She was their daughter – their own blood as far as possible.  
  
On the other hand there was the mother. She had brought the girl into existence. She had every right on the child, although she had never taken care for the girl. And her wish to have a chld of her own was just as strong as was her brother's years ago.  
  
It sure had been a dirty fight. And now citizens were allowed to speak, to make up opinions in the community. A lot of people agreed that this case had very unfortunate preliminaries and that no law would ever be able to solve a similar case without causing pain to at least one party, if not to all of those involved.  
  
One of Hagen's buddies spoke up:  
  
"This situation could have been easily avoided." Murmurs all over in the large hall, "If Zion would ban these sinful practices as what they are – sodomy" whistles, boohs and yells everywhere. Charles paused, " Sodomy in the face of the one and only God!" Now the room was boiling. Not only those living under the rainbow were upset, but all non-christians as well.  
  
The turmoil was so big, they had to evacuate the Hall and set up another date for the continuation of the hearing.   
  
As we left, in one big group, there were angry words and threats in the air, and still I don't know why nobody had tried to attack us.  
  
"That was bold, Charles!" Hagen said.  
  
I was quiet as we walked. They noticed it and Hagen asked me about my opinion. It was the first time and it was very important how I would react now. This was the moment of 'truth' – although this word could have never been more twisted and wronged than in this situation.  
  
"I'm not quite sure if it wasn't too brusque in the face of all those who are not Christians." It was a good answer, careful and in the spirit of Zion.   
  
"It was necessary to say it." Charles said, "It is time to stop this sinful life! Look at the RatKing – noting but an outlet of Sodom! They do the most terrible things there."  
  
"Have you been there?" I asked with honest surprise. What if he had seen me accidentally there? At this point I understood with absolute clarity why I had to break up with my former buddies!  
  
"No! Of course not. But I heard enough. I passed by several times" Charles looked disgusted.  
  
"Well, you are probably right: they should shut it down. But my concerns were more about upsetting all those of different belief." I did not feel like discussing the delicate subject of gayness in depth and instead tried to focus on the other part.  
  
"Thou shalt not have other Gods beside me!" Charles answered, citing the holy bible, "Anything else is wrong and they shall be saved only when they convert to the One Faith that is true."  
  
"Right, brother!" Several of those with us emphasized Charles' point of view.  
  
I kept my mouth shut and went home.  
  
These people were completely intolerant! They had to be stopped. I would do whatever necessary bring this to a halt.   



	10. Things get Personal

I haven't written in a while, due to lack of time and empty head. Sorry.  
Need to get the curve...  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Things Get Personal  
  
One evening they took me along to another clean-up. They were on the search for some queers to 'show them home', as they called it. We were five. Back then Zion streets were darker during the night-time hours to give people a better feel of how the day goes by.  
  
I had had no idea what this was about. I thought they might cuss some people out – had heard of that before. If I had known what this would be about, I would have found a reason not to be there in time. The pictures of that evening will always stay present as my personal shame and horror.  
  
They knew quite well where these sodomists used to hang out, so we found a couple rather quickly. They walked down the street, holding hands and weren't ashamed to kiss and grope right in public!  
  
Hector struck first. His fist hit the white man's head with a cracking sound. The blood made me sick and I had to puke. In the background I heard the sounds of fists and feet slamming into a human body. It is a strange sound: dull, sometimes accompanied by the dry cracking of bones, sometimes answered by a muffled moan. By the time the nausea had gone it was over. The white guy laid on the ground and looked rather bad. The other faggot had somehow gotten away, such a coward: had not had the guts to fight us.  
  
They ridiculed me. I felt like shit. I passively witnessed the attack of a fellow-man.  
  
That night I went home, waited for about twenty minutes and then secretly made my way to Gianni. I needed to talk about the situation. I hammered against her door until Gianni finally opened, a sleepy-drowsy look on her face.  
  
"Carl! You look terrible. What happened? Come in." Gianni immediately turned into a mother-hen like I had never seen her before. I let it happen – felt too weak to oppose. Gianny put a blanket around my shoulders and a hot tea into my hands before she sat down across from me and listened to my report.  
  
"You see that is one of the reasons we must stop them, Carl." She said when I had finished.  
  
"I know. If I ever had resentments, they are gone now. See, I didn't come here to get advice – I just needed somebody to talk to. I mean, he is gay and that is wrong, but that is no reason to nearly beat him to death."  
  
"Did you call a medical-team from home?" she asked.  
  
Jesus Christ! I had not. In my excitement and self-centered pity I had completely forgotten to do what was most important. "No."  
  
Gianni went to the com and sent a unit to the location, then she switched back into leader-mode:  
  
We decided that, they way I had acted until that evening, it would be OK if I would show I had problems with what I had witnessed. It would have been more conspicuous if I simply accepted it.  
  
"Be careful, Carl. Don't make this your personal crusade. Your objectiveness made you a perfect mole until today. Getting emotional will put you at risk!"  
  
"I think that'll be a risk worth taking." I got up to leave.  
  
"Carl - ..." I waved Gianni to hold it – I wouldn't listen anyway.  
  
***  
  
Next evening I discussed my resentments with Hagen.  
  
"Sometimes they go too far. We should leave them for the Lord to judge them. But we cannot accept them to roam the streets and let them commit their sinful deeds. Sometimes a cure is hard to find if not unpleasant. You don't need to join them, Carl. No problem."  
  
I was still having bad nights.   
  
I tried to find out about the guy at ZMD. It took three days to find him because I had to work and there's a lot of patients at ZMD all the time. But I found him. It was easy to get into his room – as an orderly nobody would ask you.  
  
I went in and grabbed the clipboard with his stats-sheet. It was a miracle he was still alive. Severe brain-damage, cracked skull, broken ribs, one eye lost, jaw and cheekbone broken. The way it read, I was sure this boy's life was completely ruined. And a boy he was: today was his 18th birthday!   
  
"Hi Carl." I spun around, nervous from my bad consciousness and faced a bruised Michael. We had not seen since I had sent him away that night.   
"Oh, Mike. Hi." I pretended to be busy with the bed.  
"See what they did to him." Mike stared across the room at the patient, his face a mask of pain. A terrifying thought came to me:   
Had Mike been the other man that night? It had been somebody with darker skin.   
What if he recognized me?  
I had to get out, fast!  
  
"I have to go, Mike. Pretty busy, you know?" I hurried out of the room, leaving Mike to his sorrows.  



	11. The Inner Circle

The Inner Circle  
  
  
"...to protect the Brotherhood with my life against all enemies. So help me God." I stood in the middle of a dimly lit room, my right hand raised, the left one placed on an old, frail bible, committing perjury.  
  
Nearly one year had passed since I had seen Michael in the hospital. I had made it into the inner circles of the Brotherhood, far enough to receive now those secret words and information I would need to find their counterparts in the Matrix.  
  
I had spent the past months denying myself completely. I had even started to date one of Hagen's daughters. Of course it was a purely platonic relationship, something that pleased Hagen very much. I had made clear that sex before marriage was something unthinkable for me.  
  
I had gotten so used to lying that using his daughter to solidify my cover-up did not cause any headaches. In fact I had gotten used to so many things I could hardly tell wrong from right. Or my motifs from those of the Brotherhood and those of the Zion Intelligence Service.  
  
Now the chairman embraced me as a welcome.  
  
This was it. May God condemn my soul to hell for all the sins I had committed to get here, I didn't care. I had gotten so close to my goal, I would have done anything to keep going.  
  
What goal?  
  
That was indeed a very good question!  
One I tried to evade constantly.  
Not having time to meet either Gianni nor Flynn, canceling appointments minutes before they were due. Their request became more and more urgent but they had no means to press on me because that would have ruined my cover.  
  
I was untouchable!  
  
The knowledge of my utter safety kept me calm for a very long time.  
  
Then they got me:  
  
One of my clients in the psych ward, Garner, had been found dead, killed with an overdose of synthetic morphine. The syringe used carried my fingerprints. I got arrested under suspect of murder.  
  
I have never been in jail before. The psych ward seemed to be paradise in comparison to the cells here! Even the interrogation-room to which I was brought after 36 hours was a relief. Well, the room was, not the procedure.  
  
  
  
"Isn't it true, Carl, that Garner never let an opportunity slip away to give you a hard time?"  
  
"Most of them do. They are sick, that's why they are in the psych ward." I answered.  
  
"Not all of them throw their feces at you. Or deliberately vomit over your shoes. Huh?"  
  
"No." I admitted. Garner had been an asshole! He did everything to humiliate his wards. Especially me, for whatever reason.  
  
"Monday you were alone and you decided it was enough. You pretended to give him his vitamin-shots and killed him with an overdose of morphine. He trusted you and you killed him in cold blood. Wasn't it so?" the officer's hand slammed down on the table right beside me. My frayed nerves made me jump.  
  
"No!"   
  
"You killed him! You killed a dependant!"   
  
"NO!" I yelled with a shaky voice. I was on the edge of a breakdown. I had been forced to spend one and a half day in an overcrowded cell full of crude guys with zero privacy. After witnessing a near-rape I didn't even dare to use the toilet, or to close my eyes.  
  
The door opened.  
  
"Thank you, officers. We're in charge now." Gianni and Flynn! My very personal saviors.  
  
The cops left with a pout. Flynn let me use the bathroom, then gave me a coffee. It was obvious they had knowledge of how badly the last hours had been for me.  
  
"Carl, why wouldn't you come to the last meeting?" Gianni asked with concern.  
  
I was startled. What a change in subject!  
  
"I – uh, I had no time. Work and all..." I managed to say.  
  
"Listen Carl, you need to re-focus on your goals. We can get you out of here in no time if you agree to cooperate. But if you go astray, you'll be back even faster. You wouldn't like that, Carl." They were so friendly, so concerned and I was so scared. I did not want to get back. I would have been easy prey for those brawny, drooling guys.  
  
I nodded and quickly re-calibrated my mind-setting to literally save my ass.  
  
Gianni and Flynn produced fool-proof evidence for my innocence and three hours later I was free. 


	12. In!

Author's note: Did I ever mention how mucH I love SF? I could even embrace the bad smells of Tenderloin during a dry, hot summer-week.  
  
And if anybody out there can tell me what I need for Thai-iced-coffe (besides oliang-powder-mix, I need to know the white stuff on top), my gratitude will be for certain.  
  
  
  
  
  
In!  
  
  
Freedom is a relative thing.  
  
Some people define it as being released from the dreamworld of the Matrix.  
Some define it as a mental state where they are allowed to think, write and say what they want to.  
For the longest time I had thought Freedom was the right to pursuit my own ideas, live my own way of life as long as I would not harm others in doing so.  
  
36 hours in a prison cell can change everything, level your needs.  
  
Right now freedom was the absence of the confines and threats that cell had posed upon me.  
  
Gianny and Flynn had only freed me from the police's custody to transfer me to ZIS-HQ, unnoticed by the Brotherhood. They had decided it was about time to act.  
  
Catheter, IV-hookups to feed my body, electrodes to check on my pulse, alpha-patterns and adrenaline-level. Shit, I looked like being a patient on intensive-care!  
  
"OK, Carl, just relax." I reclined on a chair somewhere in the depths of ZIS, surrounded by medical instruments and computer-terminals. The man just speaking was a medic who was responsible for my physical well-being during a run nobody knew how long it would take.   
  
I hadn't jacked in for about 18 months now and this guy told me to relax! There it was again: that metallic screech that would make a dead man shiver, when the rod gets pushed into that socket in your skull.  
  
+++  
  
I gasped like I had not breathed for all these months. Luckily they had set up a nice scene: a studio, me on a bed. Which was a very good idea, because as soon as I raised and tried to walk, I nearly broke my ankle.  
  
Funny how fast you forget to walk in high-heels.  
  
Basically it's like riding a bike: you never completely forget how to. So after walking around the studio for a few minutes, it worked rather fine again.   
  
A mirror! I needed a mirror to look at me. I walked into the bathroom. My God. I had matured a lot. From the reflecting glass a young woman looked back at me, completely with elaborate make-up, long, thin braids and full breasts. Man! I touched my face with those fine slim hands, tipped with long, dark-red fingernails. There was nothing left from the girl I had been upon unplugging. I stepped back and took a long look at the overall picture: damn nice.  
  
Although I had nearly expected to find me in a male form, now that I had come to accept who I really was. I had, hadn't I?  
  
For a second I thought I should simply try to stay inside. Everything would be fine again. Me being normal, life being easy again. But then: now that I knew my real body was male, would I ever get into a relationship with any guy and enjoy it? Wouldn't I feel like a liar? Wouldn't I _somehow_ betray the man every time we made virtual love?  
  
This dream-world was lost for me. Like paradise lost to mankind because man had seen the truth. I raised my hand to wipe my face and stopped in mid-air: that would ruin the make-up!  
  
I walked over to the window and looked outside to get an idea of where I was. Some downtown. The houses around me blocking the view except for a small patch of blue sky, sirens howling somewhere in the off. The phone rang, pulling me out of my reverie of what-if back into the harsh reality of my being here.  
  
I tried to locate from where the sound came exactly. A purse on the table. I opened it and found a cellular. A very small one, very tasteful and lady-like. I flipped it open:  
  
"Yes?"   
  
"Carl-a, " It was Flynn, stumbling over the female form of my name, I chuckled, "everything OK?"  
  
"Yes, Flynn. Where am I exactly?"   
  
"San Francisco, late September. Golden Gate and Market was the closest setup we could arrange. You will need a car. There's a National Car Rental down on South Van Ness within walking distance. You have a Visa gold-card in your purse that should cover your expenses. Good luck, Carla."  
  
"Thank you." Flynn ended the call.  
  
I quickly checked the papers in the purse: driver's license on the name of Carla Van den Bos, the mentioned Visa-card, a bit of cash and a map of SF downtown. I checked my location and memorized the way I had to walk to the car-rental. I left the apartment, taking the key with me although I should not need to get back there. But I preferred to be prepared.  
  
The elevator was out of order. In fact it looked like it had been that way for a rather long time. So I took the stairs. They were not a too pleasant view: empty cans and bottles cluttered all over the stairwell. Then I opened to door to the street.  
  
Gracious Lord, what a stink! It was very hot outside, easily in the 90s and a lot of people must have taken this place for a public restroom by mistake. Small groups of rather dangerous-looking guys were loitering the street, staring at me in a very unambiguous way. I briskly walked towards Market Street, passing a used-books-store with two old men sitting outside.  
  
I rented a car. Some standard sedan, I can't even remember color or type since cars have never attracted my attention. I decided to take the coastal drive southward, so my first direction was westward. After two minutes I got stuck in the rush-hour of today's afternoon. I embraced it, for the noisy crowd of people and cars was something you wouldn't get at Zion. Not like this. And who knew if I should ever have this view again?  
  
It was very likely I would not survive this day, like so many predecessors. 


	13. Shards of Acryl

author's note:  
Phew! Finally finished this. I suck at crime-stories, I think. This was a hard one, but I am content with the end, and the epilogue may hold some surprises.  
  
  
  
  
  
Shards of Acryl  
  
Glaring white in the bright sunlight, embedded in the brown, sun-burnt hills of the coastline stood the monastery.   
  
My target.  
  
Between two slopes of the road I halted once more. Gathering my thoughts, recalling what I had to do and eventually sending a prayer up to the heavens. It had been a very long time since I had done so for the last time, but right now it gave me strength.  
  
The engine's howling ebbed as the car skidded to a screeching halt in front of the main gate and I jumped out of the vehicle, not bothering to turn off the engine. The door opened as I ran towards it.  
  
"Hurry! They will soon be here!" I shouted in panic.  
  
"What are you talking about?" a stern-faced nun blocked my way, showing no intention to move.  
  
"I need to see the Mother Superior immediately!" I insisted.  
  
"On what behalf?" still no move in the dead-pan face of the chubby nun.   
  
"The well-being of this monastery at least!" I was upset.  
  
"Wait here." The door slammed shut and I waited for what seemed like hours. I nervously looked around. It was only a matter of time until some agent would find out something odd was going on at their main informational interface with the Brotherhood. For sure this place was closely supervised.  
  
Tick, tick, tick…. Seconds ticked away tick… tick…tick…  
  
The door opened again and an older woman was there  
  
"How can I help you?" she asked  
  
"Mother Aurelia!" I knew the woman's picture. She was the Mother Superior and the main contact with the Brotherhood, "Open arms and open gates." I rattled off the watchword.  
  
"The winter will be chilling this year." She answered correctly. I could tell she was mildly surprised as nobody had been announced for a visit.  
  
"Keepers of the doors will guard us through it." I could see her eyes widen as she heard the top-level response.  
  
"Come-in, kid." She let me pass and briskly walked towards her private quarters, me following suit. As soon as she had closed the door, she turned and asked me what I came for. It was unusual to send somebody to this place – most communication was made on electronic ways.  
  
"I am Carla. Hagen sends me to make sure the codec is still here and untouched. The Zionists are said to have tapped the secure lines and manipulated the contents of the transmissions. We have secure information about that from a new brother.  
  
"Impossible!" Mother Aurelia was shocked.  
  
"I have the key here to check it. It will only take a few minutes, Mother, but it must be done!" I insisted.  
  
After a few seconds in which the Mother Superior seemed to consider my request she nodded and led me to the crypt. As we entered the was the faint sound of commotion and I instinctively knew I had to hurry. I held the key in my hands. Here, in the Matrix it was only a piece of plastic with some holes punched through. It was the resemblance of a 1024 bit encryption key that would turn the codec into a useless piece of crap as soon as it was applied. Included was a pattern that would respond to trace-programs that were already inserted into the matrix-code.  
  
These were developed by the best hackers of Zion, camouflaged as simple insects, flying erratically through the matrix-simulation. They would find the crypted codec and destroy it, no matter where it would be then.  
  
The encryption was necessary to prevent the information to get into the Agents' hands as the hand-out of it was scheduled within the next three days.  
  
Mother Aurelia opened a small safe and handed me a piece of seemingly flawless bright green acrylic plastic.  
  
Before I could snatch it from her, the door opened and two Agents stepped in. I grabbed the codec with both hands. I hoped fervently the raid at Zion would go as planned, so that the Brotherhood would be history at the end of today.  
  
Then the bullets hit me…  
  
They ripped through my chest but must have missed my heart for I was still alive when my body slammed down on the floor, several meters from where I had stood. For a split second I wondered how enormous the impact of such a bullet was. I felt no pain in the beginning, all nerves in shock from the sudden penetration.  
  
Like in slow-motion I saw the Agents coming closer. I had dropped the key! I could see it reflecting a ray of sunlight – too far to reach it.   
I had been too slow.  
Failure!  
  
As the blood left my body I could feel the cold creep up, displacing life with stagnation.  
"No!" I shouted but out came only a bubbling distorted sound. My hands still clamped around the codec as I laid there, face down on the cold ground of the crypt.  
  
What a fitting place to die.  
  
"Finish her off!" a male voice said.  
  
I needed all my strength left to move my hands at my heart before the final bullet was unleashed. It ripped through my heart and shattered the codec into thousands of pieces on its way to the concrete ground.  
  
Triumph.   
I died with a smile, being sure that Michael and the others would be safe for another while.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
Epilogue  
  
The scrolling green was fading to black and dark red as I drifted from sleep to consciousness.  
  
"She's coming to!" I heard a whispering voice and wanted to know who they were talking about. I opened my eyes only to see blurred shades of white. I blinked several times to clear my vision: a room in white and pale green. I could see my mom standing there.  
  
"Carla! Do you recognize me?" with a few steps mom had closed the gap and her hand brushed my cheek. She looked worried and tired.  
  
"Mom!" I looked down at myself – seemed I was still in the Matrix: I was there in my female form, "What happened? Where am I?"  
  
"You had a fever, dear. You were unconscious for three days! Praise the Lord you are better." She said with tears in her eyes.  
  
  
Had it all been a dream?   
Was I re-inserted into the Matrix?   
But how?   
Sometimes, when I sleep I can see the code scroll down behind my eyelids and I constantly hope to find Michael.   
Somehow.   
I know he must be somewhere out there. 


End file.
